


Sanctum Sanctorum

by Lisafer



Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest thing to find during a war is privacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctum Sanctorum

Wyldon believes that the problem with a fort, with barracks – with a war in general – is that there is a certain lack of privacy. Soldiers don’t have time for the comforts of seclusion, after all. Sleeping, eating, fighting and praying can all be done in the presence of the rest of the squad.

But there’s a point in every war when that isolation, that privacy, is needed. There are some battles that do strange things to a fellow, and if he needs to break down and weep, it shouldn’t have to be in front of his comrades.

He finds her behind the infirmary, her head held in her hands. She is not weeping, which he’s grateful for. He’s never been any good with weeping women. 

“A child died today,” she says, when he sits beside her. Her voice is unemotional. Dead. “Her name was Haven, and she’s someone I went to Scanra to save a year ago, only to have her die in her sleep.” 

He puts one arm around her and pulls her close, the way he would with Vivenne or one of the girls. But Keladry is not like them; she doesn’t cling in response, or burst into tears at the first hint of comfort. 

“Neal calls it cot death,” she says numbly. “You taught me how to kill, and Raoul taught me how to take care of the dead – but no one teaches you how to cope with losing a little girl who didn’t even have a chance to live. A victim of war I understand. A victim of life I don’t.”

He continues to hold on to her, glaring at passersby, making them turn around and head a different way, so that she can have this one moment of solitude during a stage of her life that has no walls and doors to keep her secluded. She’s needed at all times – she can’t run away. And he knows that she doesn’t want to.

She just needs ten minutes of silence. Of mourning. Of privacy.


End file.
